


(FAILED) Holiday Bingo 2018

by dizzzylu



Series: Holidaze [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Holidays, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: A small collection of holiday/winter-themed fic(lets)





	1. Foreword

I figured since last year's bingo was such a success (for me personally, if not y'know, with readers), I'd attempt it again this year, as an escape from the insanity that is the holiday retail season. Alas, the holiday retail season kicked my ass in MULTIPLE ways, so I didn't even get one bingo, let alone the two my horrible enabler (Nic) tried to bleed from me. 

I thought maybe I could work on them again once Christmas had passed, but nope. My brain has moved on to bigger and better things (Also Nic's fault).

But! I have three fics! Well, only two of them are part of the bingo, the other one is just a bonus. A follow-up from one of last year's ficlets. I won't say which one. Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise ;)

Happy New Year! Thanks for reading!

♥♥♥


	2. Derek/Stiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **pairing:** Derek/Stiles  
>  **prompt:** stocking  
>  **tags:** established relationship, tooth-rotting shmoop

Derek pulls up to the Stilinski house shortly before seven and takes a minute to do some deep breathing, the warm glow of their Christmas lights the only thing keeping him company. It's not that he's nervous; there's nothing to be nervous _about_ , spending Christmas Eve with his— with Stiles. It's not like the sheriff's going to be there. Well, he is now, the cruiser still parked in the driveway, but he volunteered for the overnight, and will be going in soon. Leaving Derek and Stiles alone to do whatever Christmassy things Stiles has planned.

It isn't the being alone part that's scary. It's been a long time since Derek celebrated Christmas. But Stiles promised nothing corny, nothing overly emotional. Just some spiked hot chocolate, a sofa, a cozy blanket, and the best Christmas movie marathon in the history of movie marathons. The naked hope in his eyes wasn't something Derek could turn down. And, he thinks, he's going to have to recognize Christmas again at some point in the future. Might as well start small, with someone who can best interpret Derek's awkward silences.

Three more breaths and Derek heads for the door, pizzas in hand.

The sheriff answers the doorbell, smiling, shrugging into his coat. "Derek," he says with a nod. 

Derek smiles back. "Sheriff." It may be three years past, but there's still some weirdness there, for Derek. He can't help but imagine the sheriff wants to flay him alive for his relationship with Stiles, as all dads do, a fact Derek's arrest history doesn't help with. But Derek also has to admit the sheriff has only ever been warm with him, kind and welcoming. If Derek were in a better place, he might even say fatherly. 

(Admitting that, even if it's only in his head, still feels like a betrayal.)

They shuffle around each other in the small entry, Derek toeing out of his shoes as the sheriff crouches down to tie his boots. The sheriff sucks in a breath as he rises, swaying toward the box, and says, "Sure do have a lot of pizza here. Probably wouldn't miss a slice or two, huh?"

Derek eases open the lid for the meat lover's. "Smelled so good in the car, I had to have a slice on the way here," he says, feigning innocence. 

The sheriff swipes two slices with a wink. "You're a good man, Derek."

Derek ducks his head, shy and pleased. "Have a good night, Sheriff. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, son." A hand squeezes his shoulder and then Derek is alone in the entry, door shut behind him. He huffs a little laugh and turns, facing the inside of the Stilinski house for the first time since the summer.

Stiles wasn't kidding when he suggested he might have gone a little overboard with the Christmas decorations. Every flat surface has something on it; a snowman, a reindeer, a jolly little Santa. The room is dripping with lights, too. Dozen of bulbs framing each window, twisted around greenery and wrapped around the banister. It should maybe be overwhelming, almost gaudy, but Stiles has done a pretty good job balancing tacky with quirky.

"Most of this is mom's," Stiles says, emerging from the second floor. Derek watches him take one quiet step at a time, his face solemn, hopeful. "This is the first year I've really felt like decorating." He stops on the last step, holding his breath, watching Derek. 

"It looks great," Derek says, honest. "Very tasteful." His eyes land on a scene of Christmas miniatures; a working ice rink surrounded with little buildings. He nods to it and says, "Though I kind of hoped I'd find a werewolf or two in your snow village."

Stiles closes the distance and takes the pizzas from Derek, removing the last obstacle between him and Derek's mouth. "That can be arranged, Wolfboy," he whispers against Derek's lips. He tastes warm and minty, both familiar and new. Though it was something they both agreed to, Derek can admit now, in his own head, how hard it's been to let Stiles go to college, to grow up, to find himself. To trust that Stiles will come back. To Beacon Hills, to Derek.

It's easy to get lost in the slick slide of Stiles' tongue, to let the big hand at the small of his back urge him closer. To sink his fingers into thick, shaggy hair and tug until Stiles hums into Derek's mouth, sly and pleased.

"Save that for later, big guy," Stiles slurs, teeth dragging along Derek's jaw. "I am honestly hungry right now. Decorating is a lot of work, y'know?" Fingers tangled together, he leads Derek into the kitchen and sets the pizzas on the counter. Derek's the one to pull down plates and glasses, not wanting to be facing Stiles when he opens the boxes and spots the missing slices. 

"I guess I know what you got Dad for Christmas," he sighs. There's no heat there, not that Derek really thought there would be.

He pours them both a glass of soda and heads for the living room, sparing a second to nip at Stiles' earlobe. "Calories don't count on Christmas Eve."

"But trans fats do!"

Derek rolls his eyes as he places the glasses on the coffee table and settles on the couch. Stiles is still messing around in the kitchen, so Derek has a minute to take in the decorations here. The tree in the corner with the small collection of presents, more lights and garland around each window. From here, he notices the fake mistletoe hanging in the doorway and grins, making a note to watch himself for the foreseeable future. 

From there, his eyes are drawn into the dining room and the stretch of wall above their sideboard. There's another length of garland draped a few feet above it, twisted with lights, and below that, three fuzzy stockings in all different sizes. The thought of Stiles being strong enough to honor his mother like that makes Derek's heart clench, and he wanders over to get a closer look.

The first stocking is plain wine red with 'John' written across the fuzzy white trim. The one in the middle is the biggest, more of a fire engine red, with choppy felt letters spelling out Stiles' name along the entire length. Most of the fuzz is worn off and there's a hole in the toe. Derek traces over it with a finger tips and smiles, imagining a tiny Stiles dragging it around, stuffed full of toys and treats. 

The third stocking is roughly the same size as the sheriff's, but the name across the top isn't what he expects. Nor is the rudimentary glitter-glue version of a werewolf, complete with fangs and pointy ears. Derek takes a deep breath and blinks, hard.

"I told you that could be arranged," Stiles rasps, standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets.

Derek chuckles, eyes going blurry. "You didn't get the eyebrows right, though."

"Because you look _naked_ without them!" He sighs and approaches Derek, slow and careful. "I was going to show it to you in the morning," he says, low. Vulnerable.

Derek brushes his knuckles over his name, smiling, and reaches for Stiles' hand, pulling him in for a hug. "I'm glad I'm seeing it now," he murmurs into Stiles' ear.

"It's the only Christmas present you're getting from your broke college student boyfriend, so you better like it."

Derek presses a kiss to Stiles' temple, his heart feeling too big for his chest. "It's perfect."


	3. The Stilinski-Hale Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **pairing:** Stilinski-Hale Kids (not like that!)  
>  **prompt:** mittens  
>  **tags:** Stilinski-Hale family feels, big brother feels, original characters

Nik isn't sure what wakes him at first. It's still dark in his room, the first brassy rays of sun barely edging around his curtains. He yawns into the back of his hand and rolls over, blinking his eyes to bring them into focus. It takes another yawn and a long stretch for him to feel a presence in his room, hear their quick, tiny breaths. One eye is staring at him from the edge of his bed, the other hidden behind a curtain of jet black hair.

"Hey squirt," he rumbles, sleepy and amused. 

"Hi Nikky," Ava replies in what she thinks is a whisper. 

"What's going on?"

"It snowed last night," she says, her little voice tinged with awe.

At four, Ava's still young enough to not remember the winter before, the two feet of snow that fell while they spent their Christmas in their home in the mountains. It's one of Nik's favorite things about Ava, that everything is still pretty new every time she encounters it. Being seventeen, with his eyes firmly on college, Nik can admit he's a bit jaded. That there's not much wonder left in the world. 

"I s'pose you wanna go play in it?" he asks, making room in the bed for Ava to climb in beside him. 

"Duh." Nik snorts; it's hilarious to see what new teenage quirk she's picked up from Logan or Drew.

"The sun isn't up yet, though," he says, stealing a peek at his phone. It's barely 6:30, they're on _vacation_. It's a good thing Ava's cute. And that Nik has years of meditating with their dad to hone his patience. With six siblings vying for his attention, it comes in handy. 

Ava harrumphs and drops into a heap across his body, not quite heavy enough for him to be pinned. "Pleeeeeease," she says, getting louder now. Nik winces and wrestles her into a bear hug before she can get too loud and wake the baby.

"Listen," he whispers into her ear, easing the covers over the both of them. "If you snuggle with me for another—" he does some mental math, having a reasonable idea when their dad will be up and how long it'll take him to start the waffles "—hour and a half, I _promise_ I'll help you build a snowman." 

"Just you and me?"

Nik smiles into her hair. "Just you and me."

She thinks about it for a minute. "Will I get to wear my new mittens?"

"And your new snow pants," he says, pinching her hip to elicit a giggle. Aunt Lydia helped her pick them out during a Thanksgiving shopping trip, and Ava's been desperate to wear them ever since.

Another long minute of silence, then: "Show me the timer." She grabs at his wrist to make her point and he brings up the alarm app on his phone, letting her tap the numbers on her own. She's not old enough to know much about time, but she trusts him not to cheat her, and he doesn't intend to ever break that trust. 

Once she sees the numbers start ticking down, Ava rolls over and presses her ear to Nik's chest, right over his heart. Her little body expands on a sigh, then melts against his, warm and tiny. He presses his nose to her head and takes a deep breath. For all that he may be looking forward to college, to carving out a small path of his own for a little while, he's gonna miss this, too.

"Love you, kiddo," he whispers into her hair.

"Love you, Nikky," she mumbles back, sleepy and sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, some of you are probably a bit confused. This little ficlet is part of my [Marshmallow World series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/111446). Before you go clicking, it's an mpreg-themed 'verse where Derek and Stiles are blissfully happy and nothing bad ever happens. It's the sandbox I retreat to when I need a hit of fluff.
> 
> For reference, Nik (Nikolas; 17) is Derek and Stiles' oldest. The twins, Logan and Drew (mentioned), are next in line. Ava is their first girl; she's four in this fic.


	4. Taylor/Nico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **pairing:** Taylor Hall/Nico Hischier  
>  **prompt:** lazy kiss  
>  **tags:** morning after, lazy morning sex, kissing, frottage, blow job

16\. A lazy kiss

Christmas morning hasn't meant much to Taylor in a very long time, so it's with some surprise, and a little bit of annoyance that he wakes up while it's still dark outside. He lies still to listen for a bit, to make sure it wasn't a noise that roused him, but only silence echoes in his ears, blank and endless. Well, not complete silence. Not with Nico sprawled out in the bed next to him, sleeping the sleep of the young and worn out. 

Careful, Taylor reaches over to push a lock of hair away from Nico's face, letting his thumb trace the shell of Nico's ear, the skin silver in the waning moonlight. Taylor has no idea what time it is right now, only that he's had his fill of waking up Nico when it's still pitch black outside. And the whole point of last night was so they wouldn't have to rush their goodbyes. After one indulgent tug to Nico's ear lobe, Taylor rolls over and falls back asleep.

And wakes up sometime later with the weak winter sun streaming through his bedroom windows, a warm weight leaning against his back. Smiling, he folds his fingers between the ones petting his belly and gives them a squeeze. "How long have you been awake?" he rumbles, voice rusty and thick. 

"Not long," Nico says, muffling the words against Taylor's shoulder. His lips are dry and his mouth sticky, but it still feels amazing. 

"Could've woken me up." He feels a small pang of regret for missing even a second of sun-drenched Nico, splayed out in his bed. And if that makes him a hopeless romantic, it's not like he's gonna tell anybody.

Nico shakes his head, his hair tickling Taylor's skin, and says, "I had to record your snores, first." That's when Taylor notices Nico's other arm slung across Taylor's pillow, bent at an awkward angle, and the phone in his hand.

"Asshole," Taylor splutters, rolling over to pin Nico's wrists to the bed, the phone lost to the valley between their pillows. Nico squawks in protest, but he's smiling, and his legs fall open to let Taylor nestle between them, skin to skin. It's as amazing as Taylor had hoped it'd be, seeing Nico sleep-soft, doused in morning sunshine. It's way too soon — both in the time of day and the point in their relationship — to be getting so sappy, but Taylor could get used to waking up to Nico's cavernous dimples and sleep-mussed hair. To their legs slotted together while they trade sour morning kisses.

Speaking of…

Taylor's gaze flicks to Nico's mouth, his lips pink and soft and dry, and licks his own in return, telegraphing his move. Nico beams up at him, tongue flickering out to tease Taylor's chin and jawline. He flashes his teeth too, scraping them over the scruff at Taylor's chin. That's when Taylor angles in, catching Nico's mouth with his own in a soft, lazy kiss. It's at once disgusting and brilliant; both their breaths are revolting, but it's such a treat to be able to enjoy this, to stroke Nico's tongue with his own and press Nico into the sheets, with no reason to rush. Nico seems to like it too, making a noise just loud enough for it to vibrate from his chest into Taylor's. Taylor answers back, sleepy and pleased.

"Best way to wake up," Nico mutters, angling his face toward Taylor's mouth as he kisses Nico's cheeks and nose.

Taylor hums in agreement, but his shoulders are feeling the strain. He lets himself tumble to the side, most of his chest still pressed against Nico, and draws Nico in for another kiss, this one even slower and messier than the first, wet and warm and so, so perfect. It's feels so good, Taylor gives half a thought to spending the whole day like this, tucked under the sheets with nothing but skin between them, trading lush kisses with the occasional wandering hand.

As if reading his mind, a warm palm skims over Taylor's shoulder and down his arm, fingernails scrape over his waist, and then there are fingers digging into his ass, urging him closer. Taylor leans into it, bearing Nico into the bed from chest to knee in one long stretch. One of his hands sinks into Nico's silky hair and tugs, tipping Nico's head back to give Taylor access to Nico's neck. He smells a little like soot still, and spicy from last night's takeout, but most of all, he smells like sex and himself. Taylor takes in a lungful of it and bites, teasing the tendon with his teeth and licking over the pulse on his way to Nico's collar bone. 

Nico rolls his body, grinding their dicks together, and they both groan, Taylor's muffled around Nico's nipple. He drags his teeth over it in retaliation, pinching the other one, and Nico squirms, trying to angle into or away from them both at once. Taylor chuckles and does it again, drags his teeth further down, along Nico's ribs and across his stomach. He can feel the hot length of Nico's dick against his chest and presses into it, nuzzling Nico's happy trail, hands on Nico's hips to keep him still. 

Feeling selfish, Taylor bites and sucks at Nico's hips and legs, leaving marks wherever he wants to because it feels good and he _can_. Their clean-up last night wasn't the best, so there are spots of dried come and lube all over Nico's groin and thighs — Taylor's too, probably — and he rubs at them with his thumb, scrapes over the spots with his beard, until the patch of skin is clean enough for Taylor to get his mouth on. The harder he sucks, the louder Nico's panting gets, the tighter his fingers grip Taylor's shaggy hair. Nico keeps trying to move Taylor's head where he wants it, but Taylor doesn't mind the sting in his scalp, keeps teasing the base of Nico's dick with tiny licks, the drag of his nose, until Nico makes a noise between a laugh and a sob. That's when Taylor can't resist anymore and swallows Nico's dick in one smooth slide.

This part is familiar: the salty tang on Taylor's tongue, the hissed breath when he teases Nico's slit. The powerful thighs under Taylor's hand and the heavy, musky scent of Nico filling Taylor's nose. What's new is the sun on Taylor's back, the privacy of his bedroom and the luxury of time. It makes Taylor feel lazy and decadent, and he slows his pace accordingly. 

Nico whimpers once he notices things have taken a turn. Taylor glaces up at him and winks, enjoying the frustrated furrow of Nico's brows. "You're a tease," Nico rasps, throwing himself back against the pillows. 

Taylor slides off with a slick pop. "You like it." He rubs his bottom lip against the tip of Nico's dick, back and forth, until Nico shudders and sags into the bed, boneless. Taylor chuckles and sinks back down, letting his spit turn everything wet and messy.

Without the urgency, Taylor feels free to explore. To find all the things that turn Nico into a breathless, quivering mess. Like tugging at Nico's pubic hair, or nosing at his balls. They've done this a dozen times before, but Taylor's never let his mouth drift past Nico's perineum, only gave a passing thought about devoting time to rimming. But now? Now he uses his thumbs to make room for himself, teases Nico with a long, lavish lick around his hole. It's not the best thing ever, with the dried come and lube, but Nico nearly levitates off the bed, and that makes a second and third pass worth it.

"We're gonna do that again," Taylor murmurs, biting a kiss into Nico's thigh. 

"Yes please," Nico wheezes back, knees bumping into Taylor's ribs.

With one arm slung across Nico's pelvis and the other wrapped around a thigh, Taylor turns his attention back to Nico's dick, using long, slow drags of his mouth to coax out his orgasm. It takes some time — Taylor's in no hurry here, not this morning — but Nico eventually gives it up, pulsing warm and sticky over Taylor's tongue and on his mouth. Taylor cleans up what he can, prowls up the bed to smear the rest against Nico's cheek. Nico tries to resist, but his orgasm has sapped his strength. He's also laughing, body angling toward Taylor, so he's not trying to hard to avoid anything. 

Up until now, Taylor's more or less been able to ignore the insistent throbbing in his dick, but in all the squirming, Nico's thigh ended up between Taylor's and it's too easy for him to grind into it, mouth dropping open for how good it feels. 

"Yeah," Nico murmurs, close. He slides one hand into Taylor's hair, uses the other to urge Taylor forward, trying to help him find a rhythm. He throws his other leg over Taylor's thigh, closing the space between them, but it isn't enough. 

Taylor pushes him onto his back and settles between his thighs, dick slotted into the crease of Nico's groin. It's still a bit of a mess from Taylor's blow job and the sweat Nico built up, turning it into an easy slide for Taylor to thrust into. With Nico's legs wrapped around Taylor's hips, Taylor falls onto his forearms, face tucked into Nico's neck, and grinds against Nico's body, warm and sweet. 

It doesn't take much, not with Nico holding him near, whispering filthy-sounding Swiss-German into Taylor's ear, fingernails dragging along Taylor's scalp and nape. He bites down on Nico's shoulder and comes, making a mess of both of their bodies. It feels good though. Feels amazing to be able to take a minute, catch his breath and share his space with Nico in the early morning sun, in his own bed.

"You're getting sappy," Nico murmurs, fingers sifting through Taylor's damp hair.

Taylor mutters, "No 'm not," and nips at the tendon in Nico's neck. "How would you even know?"

"Old Swiss magic," Nico says, with gravity. "I can hear your thoughts."

Taylor snorts and pinches him in the ribs. Now that he's more or less recovered and aware of his pressure points, Taylor rolls them onto their sides, one arm slung around Nico's waist, reluctant to let him get too far. 

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs, ducking in for a sweet, lazy kiss. 

Nico hums and pushes closer, tangling their legs together. "Merry Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the non-bingo fic.
> 
> Sometime last fall, there was a meme going around on Tumblr, I think. A list of different kisses that people could request fic of. I was bored and itching to write something, so I asked for requests on Twitter. Someone, I forget who, requested Taylor/Nico and a lazy kiss. I don't know why I decided it should be a continuation of last year's Bingo fic, but once I was finished, I decided to hold onto it as a holiday bonus. And now here it is.
> 
> Happy New Year! Thanks for reading!
> 
> ♥♥♥


End file.
